


Crowley and Aziraphale’s New Era of Digital Longing

by Wonderjam



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale has social media, Crack, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24091660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonderjam/pseuds/Wonderjam
Summary: A crack-ish continuation of Good Omens: Lockdown.After Aziraphale turns down Crowley’s offer to spend isolation together, he regrets it immediately.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 17





	Crowley and Aziraphale’s New Era of Digital Longing

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the amazing “phone call” between Aziraphale and Crowley, Good Omens: Lockdown. Go listen to it if you haven’t!!

There was a pause.  
“I’m setting the alarm clock for July,” Crowley said, wearily. “Good night, angel.” 

“Crowley, wait, I -“  
The line went dead. 

Aziraphale put the phone down a little more forcefully than usual. 

He just had to go and ruin it all, didn’t he. Spending months with Crowley, uninterrupted, sounded like heaven. (Well, not quite Heaven, but it sounded splendid to Aziraphale.)

Aziraphale sighed. Truth be told, he was still quite nervous after the events of Armageddon and now he was just pushing Crowley away. 

“Oh!” He fretted. Unsure whether Crowley had been spirited away by slumber yet, Aziraphale quickly picked the phone up and redialled Crowley’s number. There were a few hopeful rings, then the phone went straight to voicemail. 

“This is Crowley,” the recording drawled. Aziraphale had listened to the same message thousands of times, but kept listening anyway.  
“If you’re hearing this, I’m either busy, dead, or asleep. Leave a message at the tone and I might get back to you. Might.” 

The beep sounded, and Aziraphale sighed (it was over too soon). 

He was too late. Again. 

At the very least, he could book a table at the Ritz for July. 

———-

Crowley sulkily hung up and tossed his phone as far away as he could manage.  
Sleep would be there for him. Sweet oblivion was there for him when nothing else was. 

————

Sweet oblivion was not there for him.  
Crowley snarled and violently shoved his face into one of his many pillows, half heartedly hoping he would pass out. (He did not.)

Well, even if sleep would not come, there was no way he could pathetically go looking for Aziraphale now. Not until July. He just had to keep to himself for the next few months. Easy. He’d done it before. But after Armageddon, it felt impossible to stay away from Aziraphale. For 6000 years, Crowley had been drawn to him like a moth to a flame. (Except now it was a flame which was actually a raging bonfire which was emitting sparks and occasionally having a piece of magnesium thrown into it.)

It would be Difficult.  
Very Difficult. 

Crowley groaned. It was going to be a long few months.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not exactly sure where this story is going yet and it is Completely Unedited. It is more like a spit gob of an idea that my brain produced and then refused to refine for perusal by others. Aghghgghghghgh \o/


End file.
